


A Little Night Music

by JayRain



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Operas, Orlais, Theatre, Val Royeaux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayRain/pseuds/JayRain
Summary: Dorian surprises Theo Trevelyan with an evening at the theatre to celebrate their anniversary together.  But the experience is more than Theo expected, and he just can't get the music out of his head now.  Not that it's a bad thing.  Especially when it's Dorian humming along with it.





	A Little Night Music

The lamps had been lit along the front of the theatre in Val Royeaux.  A line of carriages moved slowly, pausing at the paved pathway that led to the entry.  Ladies dressed in glittering, jewel-toned dresses and shining silver masks emerged, along with men in velvet overcoats and brocade vests and gleaming golden masks.  The din in the foyer was like the roar of the ocean, ever present, but something Theo quickly got used to as he looked around, trying not to appear too conspicuous.

For one, the foyer itself was one of the largest spaces he’d been in.  How anyone could light that huge glittering chandelier overhead was beyond him; it had to be magic.  And he’d been assured the theatre itself was even larger.

“You may want to close your mouth, dear,” Dorian murmured.  Theo blushed, but Dorian was smiling.  His grey eyes sparkled with glee, even though he seemed thoroughly comfortable and relaxed in this environment otherwise.  He’d taken great pains to select their attire for the evening; both wore tailored surcoats of deep turquoise crushed velvet.  Dorian’s black brocade trousers had threads of silver through them, while Theo’s boasted gold accents.  Dorian wore a fine, silver filigree mask that covered just enough of his face to make him mysterious, and even more alluring than Theo had ever thought possible.  He was caught in the spell of the theatre, and they’d only just come in.  “I told you this would be every bit as fancy as the ball at the Winter Palace, didn’t I?” Dorian asked.  He looped his arm through Theo’s and navigated the sea of taffeta and tulle with ease.

Theo just nodded, eyes still wide, though he kept his mouth clamped shut.  He’d seen a great deal as the Inquisitor, but there were still many things that could surprise him, apparently.  He let Dorian steer him through the crowds and up the main stairwell.  Rather than enter the wide doors with the elegant, gilt scrollwork carved overhead, Dorian kept climbing.  They paused at a landing and a masked usher opened a door.  Dorian was smiling with anticipation.  He held out a white-gloved hand to guide Theo into the private box.  “Wine, please,” he told the usher, who nodded.

Theo took Dorian’s hand and still nearly tripped down the steps to his seat at the front of the box.  The inside of the theatre was another world.  The stage below looked like a forest, all emerald greens and topaz yellows.  Rows upon rows of red velvet cushioned seats were filling in with finely dressed nobles, flitting like tropical birds coming to roost.  The domed ceiling was painted with delicate, tiny frescoes; chandeliers had been lit overhead and again, he didn’t know how anyone could manage such work.  It was breathtaking, frightening and beautiful all at once.

“It’s hardly real,” he murmured to Dorian.  He pulled off his own gloves; his hands nearly trembled with excitement.  

“Oh, just wait,” Dorian said.  He grinned, his mustache quirked up slightly.  He poured wine for himself and Theo.  “A toast, to not only surviving a year together, but being able to stand one another for that long as well,” he said with a chuckle.

“And to another, and more after that,” Theo said with his own smile.  “What’s this play about?”

“You’ll have to wait for that,” Dorian said mysteriously.  He leaned over and kissed Theo lightly.  The taste of wine made his lips even sweeter, and Theo was glad for the privacy afforded by the box.  His cheeks were flushed from the wine, from the warmth, and from the excitement.  The show hadn’t even started yet; how could anything top this feeling?

The lights dimmed--again, it had to be magic--and music started.  It was music the likes of which Theo had never heard before.  Light and jovial, with a bouncing lower line, string instruments creating sounds he didn’t think possible.  The winds joined in: long flute runs that should have been impossible.  The music crescendoed and dropped again and when it started, the melody was mournful and drawn out and his heart ached in a way he hadn’t ever felt before.

Movement on the stage drew his gaze.  A woman in a large, ornate dress, high, powdered wig, and heavy makeup under her gold mask stood front and center.  Three other women stood behind her, not nearly as ornate, but still a sight to behold.  The music dipped in volume.  She opened her mouth.

Theo hadn’t realized humans were capable of making such sound.  Her voice, high and clear with a controlled vibrato, resounded through the theatre.  She was clearly singing words, because the other three ladies, and then a man who’d joined them, were rapt by what she was saying; but what language it was, he didn’t know.  It didn’t matter, anyway.  Her voice ran up and down the scales; she trilled like a bird.  The others joined in with a chorus, and then backed away as the man approached.

His voice was deep and rich like velvet: strong, but not overpowering.  He and the woman sang together in harmony, voices blending and entwining like flowering vines.

The sailors of Ostwick used to tell stories of men lured to their death by a beautiful voice on the open water.  They would hear the voice and turn their ships toward the song and sail toward it.  Some ran their ships aground on shoals; others disappeared, legend saying that they were still looking for the source of the song.  Theo had scoffed at such tales.  No music could be so beautiful it could lure someone to their death.

How wrong he was.  If that unwavering soprano had asked him to jump from the balcony, he would have.  Her voice wrapped around his heart, touching him in a way words couldn’t.  He reached out his hand and Dorian took it, his hand warm and strong and lightly pulsing with mana.  Theo glanced over, but Dorian wasn’t watching the stage: he was watching him.

He became aware of tears in his eyes and blinked to clear them.  The soprano had moved into a jaunty duet with another young woman.  “Here’s where they conspire to confuse the Duke of her identity,” Dorian murmured, breath hot on Theo’s ear.

A tingle surged through him.  “How do you even know?”

“They’re singing in Orlesian.  And I’ve seen this one before.”

Theo just nodded, watching and listening, and eventually closed his eyes.  What was happening on stage was nothing compared to just letting the music wash over and through him.  He kept hold of Dorian’s hand, as if it could anchor him and keep him from floating away on the strains of violin solos and soprano vibrato and powerful baritone that settled in his core.  He felt himself swaying along with the waltz and by the end he didn’t know if he was drunk on wine or on music.  Dorian’s eyes rarely left him, and he caught Dorian smiling, his eyes shining.

“What  _ was _ that?” Theo asked when they’d finally exited the theatre and were settled in the carriage bringing them back to their hotel.  He undid the buttons and took off his gloves, and opened the shutter a bit to let the cool night air into the carriage.

“That, my dear, was opera,” Dorian said.  “An acquired taste for many, but I’ve always enjoyed the drama.”

“Those voices,” Theo said with a sigh.  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.  He could still hear the strains of strings in his mind.  The echo of the soprano, flying effortlessly over the notes and more lovely than any bird, was in his ears.  “When did you see it?”

“When I was quite young,” Dorian said.  “I had to choose one I’d already seen so I could appreciate its effects on you, all the more.”

“I didn’t know there could be music so wonderful.”

“I’m pleased you’re so taken with it,” Dorian told him, but he sounded genuine; as if he hadn’t expected the effect it had had on Theo.

“I’m pretty taken with you,” Theo told him.

He still felt like he was floating on the music when they arrived at their hotel, and he hummed the few bars of the main melody as best as he could remember them.  He didn’t want to lose this loveliness; the thought of those harmonies and melodies fading into echoes and then nothing filled him with melancholy.

“Don’t look that way,” Dorian told him, helping him slip out of his coat once they were alone in their room.  He brushed Theo’s chestnut hair off his forehead.  “We’ll just have to go again, is all.  Or… I could make you forget?” he teased, pulling Theo close to him and kissing his neck. Theo angled his head so Dorian could get that spot just under his ear, by his jaw.  “Or maybe I could sing a little bit for you,” he whispered, fingers trailing down Theo’s arms and his tongue flicking out along Theo’s earlobe.

Theo shivered and his fingers worked at the buttons on Dorian’s coat.  The rush of the music was still in him, singing through his veins.  Dorian’s mouth was on his and he still tasted of wine.  They struggled out of their vests and shirts and Dorian pulled Theo to him.  Skin on skin, Theo could feel his heat and the light buzz of mana that always seemed to be there just below the surface.  Dorian broke the kiss and trailed his lips down Theo’s neck and across his shoulder before pushing him back on the bed.

Dorian straddled him.  “I should have taken you to the opera long before now, had I known it would put you in this state of mind.”  He trailed kisses down Theo’s chest, pausing to tease his nipples with his tongue.

“It’s… fine… I’m… Maker’s breath, Dorian,” Theo gasped as Dorian undid his trousers and slipped them off.  Dorian sat up, shirtless, his own trousers just barely open.  He looked quite satisfied with himself, and Theo couldn’t help but respond to the way Dorian looked straddling him, smiling, the firelight warm on his bronzed skin.  

Dorian worked his own trousers off.  “Better,  _ Amatus?” _ he asked, languidly stroking himself, one eye on Theo.  How did he manage such control?  Theo bit his bottom lip as Dorian took him in his mouth.  The music floated in his mind as he floated through a cloud of ecstasy.  He reached out his hand and Dorian took it; he clasped tightly, and Dorian clasped back, like he had just a couple hours ago at the opera.

Later, the fire had burned down to embers and both were thoroughly spent, collapsed in each other’s arms and tangled in the bed sheets.  “If we go to another opera, don’t tell me what they’re saying,” Theo said drowsily, trailing his foot down Dorian’s calf.  Dorian just grunted acknowledgement.  “I’d like to think it’s something so beautiful that there aren’t actual words for it.  That only that kind of singing can do it justice.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic,” Dorian said, voice muffled by the fluffy pillow.

“You love me anyway,” Theo said, kissing him gently before burrowing into the blankets and snuggling up against Dorian.  The music trailed through his sleepy mind, gossamer threads of melody that soon blended with the sound of Dorian’s deep, easy breathing as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
